


over and over and over and over again

by noctiphany



Series: kinktober 2018 [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 03:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16380305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctiphany/pseuds/noctiphany
Summary: This is what they do.





	over and over and over and over again

They fight. This is what they do.

Blood and sweat. A never-ending battle across the rooftops of Gotham. Punches are thrown, dodged, thrown again. Words are said that cut sharper than any blade, that burrow deeper than a bullet at close range. They don't know why they fight. They just know that they do.

Some nights it's all an all out brawl and it leaves them broken in new places and covered in blood, chests heaving with exhaustion and adrenaline. Some nights it's more like a dance that they've fine tuned over time; they have had a while to perfect it, after all. Those nights they're almost graceful. It's a demonstration of just how well they know each other, their bodies fluid, each kick and jab and dodge complimenting the other's. They know no one's going to win. Still, they fight.

It's what they do. It's what they've always done. Sometimes, Jason thinks it's all Bruce knows. How to fight. How to bleed. How to break. He wants to know if Bruce can do other things.

He's tired of fighting.

It's raining hard, water falling down on them like shell casings, and tonight, on a rooftop in the middle of Gotham, Jason refuses to fight. Bruce hits him. Hits him. Hits him. His bottom lip splits open, blood mixing with sweat and rainwater.

“Get up,” Bruce says.

“No.”

“Fight back,” he growls.

Jason stands up, swipes his tongue over the skin that Bruce's gauntlet split open.

“No.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Bruce rumbles, his voice shaking with anger and frustration, and he grabs Jason by his jacket and slams him against the wall. Then he kisses him.

Then it's a different kind of dance. More frantic than any fight and nearly more violent. Bruce’s mouth splits the cut on Jason's lip open worse than his fist ever could and they share the taste of it, blood and salt and earth and life. It's desperate, almost panicked, on the edge of insanity. They grab at one another, ripping at clothing, biting flesh. When Jason tears the cowl away from Bruce’s face lightning flashes behind them, reflecting in his eyes, and for a moment, Jason is afraid.

Afraid that he’ll stop. Afraid that if they do this, it'll ruin everything. It's that fear that drives Jason's fist into Bruce's face. The impact of his knuckles on Bruce’s jaw is a burst of white hot pain and its comforting. This -- this is what he knows. Blood. Pain. Concrete beneath his boots and brick behind his back. This is Gotham. This is them.

Blood trickles from the cut on Bruce’s bottom lip down his chin. He shakes off his gauntlet, reaches out and cups Jason's cheek, swipes his thumb across the split in his lip.

“Jay,” he says, soft, unsure, and Jason shatters.

He hates the way Bruce can do that to him, just take him apart with a word, a look, a touch. He hates how much he needs it. He loves how much he hates it.

“Yes,” Jason mouths against Bruce’s fingertips, the word barely audible over the rumble of thunder and the clashes of lightning, but it doesn't matter. This is what they do. They fight. They bleed. They break.

They love.

Bruce picks him up like he weighs nothing and Jason wraps around him like Bruce is the only thing he ever wants to hold onto. Bruce’s mouth is soft agsinst his, sticky and tangy with a mixture of their blood, and he says Jason’s name against his mouth over and over. Like a prayer. Like penance.

“Yes,” Jason says. “Yes, yes, just -- yes.”

Bruce kisses his mouth, his jaw, his closed eyelids and it's so much, too much. When he moves down to Jason’s throat, Jason slips his hand under the suit and wraps his hand around Bruce’s cock. It's hot, half hard, and Bruce bites into Jason’s shoulder when he feels Jason's hand on him.

“No,” he says next to Jason's ear, voice low and strained. “I want...you.”

“Me too,” Jason says, but he doesn't stop. "I want you to take me to that giant bed of yours. I want you to open me up on those huge fucking fingers. I want -- fuck, I want you inside of me, B. I want to feel every fucking inch, I want to feel you _everywhere_."

“Jay,” Bruce gasps, hips fucking into Jason's tight grip.

“Tell me what you want, B.”

“You,” Bruce says, pulling back to look into Jason's eyes. “Just you.”

The earnestness throws Jason out of his element. Reality rushes back in so fast it almost knocks him off of his feet. No. No. This isn't what they do. This isn't --

He can't do this. 

“No,” Jason shakes his head, shoving Bruce off of him. “No, you fucking don't.”

Bruce doesn't say a word as Jason jumps off the ledge, but it's okay. They'll see each other again soon.

This is what they do.

**Author's Note:**

> Errr this was supposed to be the kinktober drabble for handjobs but uhhhhh angst happened instead SORRRY


End file.
